I was a rude girl. I had the whole 'emo' thing going on before it was a trend in entertainment or in school. My mother had something to do with it, but mainly I reacted to a super strict father who was bordering on abusive. He meant well, like most wacked out military fathers who suck in all their aggression- rather than express it in some creative way, they feel they need to be powerful all the time. My father had no short list of hobbies. He swam, jogged 10 miles every other day and had a nice gun collection and he wasn't adverse to using them if provoked. He also was a great adventurist, and if it wasn't for our middle class lifestyle- he would have travelled the world for sure outside of the military. His other hobbies which he was able to share and teach me were; metal detection, collecting coins, reading, oil painting, karate and poetry. Oh, but this blog is about my mother's influences on my life today. Exit,dad memories...
Mom, she was a sweet, feisty short Italian risk-taker. She wasn't well traveled or well schooled (my father told me my mother had a diploma as a Pharmacy Technician) she was a risk taker, why else then would she have married a young Panamanian immigrant in the sixties? I can't say they complimented each other. She was short and he was 6'3tall, she was fair skinned and he was well, Panamanian, she was natural born and he was an immigrant. He was melancholy and she was open. My mother was light and somewhat airy and he was so grounded and very grounding. I always say a bird can't fly, if tethered.
I can remember being out with my mother shopping at a grocery store. I had been filling my mothers cart with beauty magazines, cosmetics and things only I found interest in. My spunky mother, would quickly toss out my picks as fast as I placed them in the cart. One trip I placed a few magazines and lip gloss in her cart and she bugged. She began schooling me about how she doesn't think I needed a cosmo and redish pink lipgloss at my age. I can't remember if I was thirteen or older, but my opinion differed from hers on the subject. I defiantly began to tell my mother that I must have those things, I even went as far as to demand I have them. We hit our personal views on the topic vehemently. Needless to say some fellow shopper decided to comment to me, while my mother was cashing out her groceries and my goodies. This stranger leaned over and said" you know you shouldn't talk back to your mother like that miss". Oh, I can remember how I turned to him blankly and told him off. Yes, I was a rude kid.
Here I am, a product of my mother( and father) and obviously I have some of that feisty, Italian five foot tallness my mother projected and it goes without saying I had some of that moody, mysterious creativity of father. Today, I like to think I learned from a child and young adulthood of being pouty and feisty. I learned to be forgiving, like mom. I learned to be a hardass like dad, and I am open at heart like mom.
My mother 's smile, her face and somethings she told to only me her only daughter- reverberate daily. Like a few things she told me on her deathbed. While close to her last days on earth, I sat with my mother(which was difficult for me to do- watch her whither away) and she began to tell me what she felt I needed to know. It was a short list, my mother was an uncomplicated person; she said Cyndi, you never gave me any trouble, you were always a good kid, I am proud of you. Be a good mother for your daughters and always go to Cheryl -she is here for you, you two will need each other.
That's it. From a rude pre teen, to a daughter who never let her mother down. Wow... I am not sure if that is true for each and everyday of my daughter-hood. What is most important is, she felt SHE needed to say that to me. My mother needed to convey that with me at that very moment. I carry it each day and no one and not one thing can interfere with the feeling her words imparted. These bird aren't tethered any longer.
Mom, she was a sweet, feisty short Italian risk-taker. She wasn't well traveled or well schooled (my father told me my mother had a diploma as a Pharmacy Technician) she was a risk taker, why else then would she have married a young Panamanian immigrant in the sixties? I can't say they complimented each other. She was short and he was 6'3tall, she was fair skinned and he was well, Panamanian, she was natural born and he was an immigrant. He was melancholy and she was open. My mother was light and somewhat airy and he was so grounded and very grounding. I always say a bird can't fly, if tethered.
I can remember being out with my mother shopping at a grocery store. I had been filling my mothers cart with beauty magazines, cosmetics and things only I found interest in. My spunky mother, would quickly toss out my picks as fast as I placed them in the cart. One trip I placed a few magazines and lip gloss in her cart and she bugged. She began schooling me about how she doesn't think I needed a cosmo and redish pink lipgloss at my age. I can't remember if I was thirteen or older, but my opinion differed from hers on the subject. I defiantly began to tell my mother that I must have those things, I even went as far as to demand I have them. We hit our personal views on the topic vehemently. Needless to say some fellow shopper decided to comment to me, while my mother was cashing out her groceries and my goodies. This stranger leaned over and said" you know you shouldn't talk back to your mother like that miss". Oh, I can remember how I turned to him blankly and told him off. Yes, I was a rude kid.
Here I am, a product of my mother( and father) and obviously I have some of that feisty, Italian five foot tallness my mother projected and it goes without saying I had some of that moody, mysterious creativity of father. Today, I like to think I learned from a child and young adulthood of being pouty and feisty. I learned to be forgiving, like mom. I learned to be a hardass like dad, and I am open at heart like mom.
My mother 's smile, her face and somethings she told to only me her only daughter- reverberate daily. Like a few things she told me on her deathbed. While close to her last days on earth, I sat with my mother(which was difficult for me to do- watch her whither away) and she began to tell me what she felt I needed to know. It was a short list, my mother was an uncomplicated person; she said Cyndi, you never gave me any trouble, you were always a good kid, I am proud of you. Be a good mother for your daughters and always go to Cheryl -she is here for you, you two will need each other.
That's it. From a rude pre teen, to a daughter who never let her mother down. Wow... I am not sure if that is true for each and everyday of my daughter-hood. What is most important is, she felt SHE needed to say that to me. My mother needed to convey that with me at that very moment. I carry it each day and no one and not one thing can interfere with the feeling her words imparted. These bird aren't tethered any longer.